Equinox
by Vatican Carmel-o
Summary: Rosalie, age 26, signs up for a new life on Pandora. There will be many challenges for her to face on Pandora, and some might tear her apart from the inside out. Could a daring plot throw her whole life off kilter? Regular pairings, please R&R.
1. Life on board

**Yeaaah. I added some more to it :P And changed Fauna to Flora (Thank you, HpandTwilightrox :D) Hope you like it!**

My eyes flutter open- I'm washed in a strange, blue light. I try to lift my hands to my face to clear my eyes of sleep, but they're strapped down. Confusion is the dominant feeling- along with an odd numbness that that holds my feet and elbows. My focus is slipping, vision dancing from foreground to background. A few spheres of liquid float lazily through the air, a sight that would have been strange, had it not just jogged my memory.

Six years ago, I signed up for life on Pandora. Five years ago, I stepped onto this ship and went under Cryosleep. Cryosleep is dreamless, not like a refreshing, good night's sleep. More like a slap in the face and a hangover.

I begin slowly moving backwards, a soft hiss grows louder and louder. Bright, white light floods into my cryo-chamber. I wince and squint in the bright light that is intensified by the silver and white that surrounds me.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty." a man in a white outfit greets me, unclipping the bonds that hold me by my elbows and shins. I smile at him, giving it a sarcastic edge.

"Why thank you," I say, my voice sounding strange and alien from lack of use. "I am rather gorgeous, aren't I?"

The attendant laughs and shakes his head. I scowl at him. "When are we going to get there?" My patience slips the moment he shakes his head to the fact that I am, indeed, stunning to behold.

"It'll still be a few months yet," he says matter-of-factly before turning his back to me and helping the passenger to the right.

"You have been in Cryo for five years, four months and sixty-seven hours," another attendant shouts to all of the passengers that are already outside of their Cryo-chambers.

"You will be tired and hungry," he shouts again, calling everyone's attention to his words. "If you feel nauseous, please move to the receptacles below!"

I close my eyes for a moment- he was right. Tired and hungry. _Very_ hungry. Someone floats up beside me, tapping my shoulder to get my attention.

"You're Rosalie Lillian Hale, aren't you?" it is a male. I turn to around to face my accomplice.

"Edward… Mason, is it not?" I ask politely. He looks like a nice man, not the kind that would kill- as many on this ship may end up doing.

Edward chuckles. "Yes, it is. Might you be a new scientist?"

My eyes narrow. "What makes you think that?" perhaps I'm a little too vehement.

"I- well, um, you don't really look the type to be running around and killing anything that attacks a group…" he trails off, leaving us in a rather awkward silence.

"Well, you'd be correct," I say, smiling brilliantly. I'm worried that I may have given him a bit of a scare with my 'out of the blue' mood change.

Edward chuckles nervously, clearly put on edge by my mood swing. He keeps his silence, rather than saying something stupid.

Clever boy.

"I take it you are doing the 'running around and killing anything that attacks the group'?" I smile sweetly.

Edward chuckles. "Yeah, I'm lucky to have an Avatar body- very few are fortunate enough to have gotten one. I heard that something went wrong with the last batch of bodies and they have to cut off most of them. I guess some of the bodies were remade on this flight, but I think it'll still take a long time for them to mature…" he trails off, noticing my slightly dazed expression.

"Wait, what? Oh, sorry. I don't actually know how the Avatar thing works, seeing as I was never offered a pilot-body-thing and I was too consumed with other... things to attend to." I say apologetically.

He nods. "I honestly don't care, I tend to bore people quite a lot," this, I laugh at. "But I would have thought that you'd know more about the Avatar program, as you're a scientist,"

"Ah, I specialize with flora. So I'll be spending more time poking and prodding plants from Pandora than tearing them from the ground." I frown in distaste- that will be the hardest part, watching the other humans tear up the plants and trees so that they can mine for their stinking Unobtanium.

"I see." Edward says, glancing up as an attendant floats in our direction.

"You two may want to head to the improvised gym," the attendant says sternly. "We wouldn't want any weaklings floundering about on Pandora and screwing over our whole project." he floats off in another direction to badger a different group of passengers.

"Rude," I mutter, turning back to face the bronze-haired man that I had been speaking to previously. "Well, we'd better head down to lift some weights before we get scolded even harder. Maybe they'll throw toilet paper at us!" I scoff indignantly and half swim, half flail down to the metal grates that separate the different levels of _The Equinox_.

I shimmy towards the opening in the grate, just about ready to kill someone if it meant an easier way to move around the ISV.

"Coming, Edward?" I call behind me, hoping that the male was following behind me. I still needed someone to talk to.

Besides, he hasn't complimented me yet.

* * *

It's been three months since we woke from Cryosleep. On the dot. We're being herded into a Valkyrie shuttle platform so that we can actually get to the surface of Pandora. A fat lot of good just sitting here like bumps on a log would do us.

As we file into the platform, we're all told to check our things, as if anything's left in our lockers, it's left behind. I run my finger along the edge of my exopack, praying that when I need it, nothing will go wrong. Like a leak.

I sit on a bench and strap myself in. Edward sits beside me and sets his bag on the dirt-covered floor of the shuttle. A red light goes off and a small warning siren sounds, putting me on edge.

"That alarm means we're taking off, right?" I ask, setting the exopack down beside me. "We're not going to die before we even get to Pandora?" I'm being paranoid, but my pride doesn't allow me to take back the worry now that I've said it.

Edward gives me a strange look. "If the shuttle was going to explode, we'd be very well informed," he says. "Informed meaning that people would be rushing back onto the ISV."

I nod slowly at first, before looking at him with determination set in my jaw. "I totally knew that," I say, my chin becoming slightly elevated into the air. "I was just… testing you. Because if you're going to survive on Pandora, you need to know something like that. It's important, you know, being able to tell a warning siren from a we're-about-to-launch siren." I glare at him as a smile begins to tug at the corners of his lips.

I quite literally jump out of my seat as the shuttle port is detached from the rest of the ISV. My fingers dig into the thin cushion that lines the top of the bench as a wave of nausea hits me. They did tell us that nausea was a symptom that you might experience during the flight, right?

Edward chuckles at my discomfort, shaking his head. "Did you go through _any_ training?" he asks.

I glare at him venomously, daring him to say anything else. He seems to get the message and looks at the other passengers, though his brazen smile is still quite visible. I roll my eyes at his immaturity and make a point of shuffling a little ways away from him. The cushion that lined the bench was a dark, sick looking green. It's hardly comfortable to sit on, and I know that I'm going to have to for the next few hours as we head in towards the new base. I remember hearing stories about the first base- Hell's Gate. At first the name had come across as strange, but I soon figured out that it probably fit. Pandora being hot, somewhat wet, and incredibly dangerous, it seemed to exceed the description of hell.

I recall stories from when I was younger –about six years old- about Pandora. By then, anyone who went to Pandora and survived the first time had come back with their chilling tales of being kicked off the planet. From what I heard, there was a huge, unprovoked attack by the natives that killed many, including an old family friend whom I only knew as Miles.

When everyone returned, they made quite the effort to get word out about the savages known as the Na'vi. It was on the news, in the newspapers –if anyone still read them at that point- and the hot topic of many websites. Older siblings were constantly scaring their younger brothers and sisters with stories of the towering 10-foot beasts, telling them that if they didn't behave, one of the Na'vi would come and eat them. I know this from experience, as I used to take great pleasure in scaring my brothers witless at the tender age of ten.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is it. This is what I've given up my social and financial life for. Studying strange plants on a strange world with hostile natives. Fun, fun. I've heard wonderful things about the plants on Pandora; the way that the trees and plants seemed to communicate with more connections than the human brain, messages speeding along connections between roots faster than the eye can blink.

I struggle to keep myself from wriggling with excitement, instead allowing that little thrill shoot through me. Keeping a smile off my face, however, was all but impossible. If I were younger, I probably would have been swinging my legs and bouncing up and down with uncontainable joy. Thankfully, I'm more mature than _that._

It's taken me a while to realize that I'm wearing cargo pants. _Cargo pants._ Unflattering, baggy, disgustingly coloured cargo pants. The zippers and buttons that hold together the many unbecoming pockets seem to stick out and rub their horrible unattractiveness in my face.

And then there's the shirt. The dirt smudged tank top with a thin vest-like piece of cloth draped over my shoulders. It was also covered in dust and smelled like it had been dragged along the floor of the shuttle several times. _Everything_ here seemed to have some hint of dark green on it, obviously for camouflage. Regardless, the color that could save my life still annoys me to no end.

My hair's also rather bedraggled, tied back in a lopsided and sloppy ponytail. Stray locks of golden hair flies out in many directions, some hanging beside my ears and others –at least last time I checked- curved up and down, starting from the elastic and tugging at my scalp. I pull a couple of strands further out of the binding that the elastic provides as they were slowly, and painfully, being yanked from my scalp by the elastic and movement of my head.

Hours meld together as we approach the strange moon. I stare at a spot on the ceiling as I think about home; a place I won't see for another four years, at the _very_ least. The first thing I think about is a dear friend that I've left behind, Vera. She's happily married (at least she was when I was still on earth) and has a gorgeous child. My thoughts sweep towards my family. My two younger brothers, my father (who detested me going to a distant planet where I will most likely die or get seriously injured) and my mother- or nanny. As the nanny that used to be for my brothers slipped into the position of 'mother' several years before I left.

My heart sinks as the reality of what I'm doing seeps past the hype. I might _die._ Me. The most-likely-most-gorgeous-person-on-earth might _die._

A crackling voice over the intercom tears me from my self-absorbed thoughts. My thoughts are bitter-sweet as the static clears and the voice can be properly heard.

"We are approaching the stratosphere of Pandora."


	2. Welcome to not Kansas

**Sorry for the long wait ;-; I was... Building up tension? xD I intend to have other chapters soon on their way- I won't fail, I swear. Besides, I'll hate myself if I let this story die :P**

Pandora.

The Valkyrie shuttle has launched itself from the shuttle platform, sending us rocketing towards Pandora. Soon enough the shuttle is skimming along the tops of the tree. Which is, evidently, _very_ high up. I crane my neck to see into the cabin, the only place with windows. My breath is stolen away by the sight that is in front of the pilot's seat- trees, birds, and larger creatures soaring through the air below us. I only catch small glimpses of them before they disappear from sight.

Something ruins the view, however. A plume of dark grey smoke rises above an Unobtanium mining site. The co-pilots voice crackles over the intercom once more.

"We are over the main Unobtanium deposits now," it said, popping and cracking as the connection struggled to stay together. "The base is approximately seventeen clicks northeast."

At this speed, I know that we'll get there in no time. Another mining site appears, much to my distress, soon after we pass the first one. With the knowledge that we will land quite soon, I reach for my exopack.

My heart rate skyrockets. Where _is_ it? I scan the bench, searching for the life saving device. I spot it on the floor on the other side of the... well, passenger area. I unbuckle myself and half crawl, half crab-walk my way to retrieve it. It isn't a long scuttle, only long enough to earn myself a few strange looks.

Great. I'm crazy already.

Standing, I try to look dignified as I take the three steps back to my seat. Key word being, of course, try. The Valkyrie gives a startling jolt and I lose my balance almost instantly. A few people behind me chuckle as I scramble back onto my feet and quite literally jump forwards to the bench and strap myself in.

I roll up my sleeve and examine the bruise that's forming below my elbow. It's not anything life threatening, obviously, but the ugly purple and black blotch will be the bane of my vanity until it fades.

I can just tell.

"Masks on, people!"

My heart pounds as I slip the mask on over my face. There is soft sucking noise as the filtered air rushes into the cavity between my face and the glass.

I run my hand through my hair. My anticipation becoming almost impossible to contain. I allow a small smile past my defences.

Wouldn't want to look like a schoolgirl going on a field trip, would we?

No. This is Pandora, and if what has been said about the planet is right, there's death around all corners here. Thanators don't care if I was a botanist. The Na'vi probably don't either. There's even more danger now that there are less Avatar drivers as escorts, and we aren't about to get help from the indigenous.

No, this isn't a field trip at all.

As soon as the hatch opens, a wave of humid air sweeps through the hold. We get into a line and jog to the main building the very second the hatch hits the wet ground. Mud squelches beneath my boots as I run, but from the cracked fragments of dry mud I can tell that it was blistering hot only days before now. A very subtle reminder that conditions around here are ruthless.

A screech from above nearly makes me trip. I steal a quick glance upwards and see what is probably the most terrifying thing I've seen in my life. A large blue and red lizard-bird swoops towards a Samson Helicopter, getting within a few feet of the spinning blades before feinting back.

A rough shove from behind me pulls me back to the present. "_Move_ it!" someone snaps. I realize that, in my awe of the great Pandoran creature, I had slowed to a near stop.

I bite back a sharp reply and run for the building again. The ground changes from mud and grass to solid pavement. To my left, a large hole in the chain link fence is being repaired- I shudder to think of what had ripped through the metal and past the other defences.

AMP suits are being driven, lifting heavy objects for construction. Several small buildings are arranged around the largest, as though they're supposed to be connected.

Step left, step right, left, right, left, right.

My section soon reaches the doors of the large, centerpiece of a building. We file in, never once uttering a word of stepping out of line. We're marched up a flight of stairs and into a large room with windows making up two of the walls. From the setup of the tables and chairs, I assume that this will be a "mess hall."

A man who looks no older than thirty enters from a door I hadn't noticed before. He studies us critically as he walks to the front of the room, his steps set and confident.

"I," he says. "Am head of your security detail while you tour Pandora." His voice is rough, as though he has not spoken for many hours. "Corporal Abbott. Not all of you will make it to rotate back. Many of you will either be killed by your stupidity-" he snatches a chair from one of the tables close to him. "Or by a savage attack by the natives. They will not be happy to find out that we are back."

The chair slams into the floor.

"Why, they've even got one of our ex-marines as their god-damned leader! But does that mean that we will back down?" his words dare us to say yes. "_No! _Just because everything out there that moves wants you dead, will you stop and beg me to rotate you back?"

I flinch at the venom in his voice. Abbott walks up to a sitting soldier. He asks something in a low voice- too low for me to hear. The sound of the doorknob hitting the wall makes us look up. A short woman is walking through the threshold, her eyebrows knit together in a scowl. She stands in front of Abbott, who towers at least a foot over her.

"Abbott, what happened to sending my scientists over to _me_ when they arrived?" she asks through clenched teeth. From my seat near the front, I smell the sharp scent of perfume mixed with wet grass. I notice that the hem of her jeans is spotted with still-wet mud and smeared with the green and yellow of grass.

Corporal Abbott glares down at her for a few moments before waving his hand dismissively. "Fine," he growls, "Take your science pukes and _go._"

A few people around me stand up and start to pick their way through the crowd. "Sit down until I call your name." The female snaps. She draws a folded paper from the pocket of her jeans, unfolding it and clearing her throat. Faces are matched to names as, one by one, the party of scientists gathers at the front of the room.

"Rosalie Hale." She said, looking up and through the crowd, waiting for Rosalie to stand. Waiting for me to stand. When I reach the front she continues the list, ignoring the loud tapping noise that has started behind her. I half-turn my head to find the source of the noise and see that Corporal Abbott is sitting on the chair he had abused, glaring and tapping his foot.

The last name is read and the last scientist walks up to the front. The short female leads us out the door, but before fully leaving the threshold, she turns and addresses Abbott.

"I trust you will remember my instructions for the next shipload?" she asks, smiling.

"Yes, Dr. Brandon." He says. The head of security was whipped by a scientist the size of an eleven year old. Ouch. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a defence brief to continue."

Dr. Brandon leads us out the door, letting a brunette pass through the threshold before angrily slamming it shut.

"Well," she says, letting out a breath as though she didn't realized she'd been holding it. "We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us, kids. Let's go." We put on our Exopacks and she pushes through another door, revealing that rain had started to fall while we were getting a safety brief.

"Dammit." I mutter, wishing for a hood to put up and protect my hair.

Dr. Brandon exits the building, keeping close to the wall as she walks towards one of the smaller, disconnected buildings.

"Welcome to Kansas," Dr. Brandon says, gesturing to the small, dry area that we stand in. She steps into the rain and signals us to follow.

"You are not in Kansas anymore." She does a little fist pump. "I've _always_ wanted to use that line!"

She spins on her heel and walks through the torrential downpour, muttering something about the head of security insisting that her lab be in one of the buildings yet to be connected to the others.

The rain soon has my hair sopping and my feet squelching through thick mud. Work on buildings and the fence is continuing and the fence's repairs seem to be nearly finished. The water droplets are like ice on my skin, biting deep and chilling me to the bone in spite of the humid wind.

We file through the rather small entranceway of the building Dr. Brandon led us to. I wring most of the water out of my hair and onto the mat on the floor.

"Since it's so muddy outside, I would advise you all to remove your shoes and put on a pair of sterile slips to keep the lab clean." Dr. Brandon says, taking off her shoes. She grabs a pair of light blue booties and slips them on.


End file.
